The title is clickbait. I apologize. I am listening to Westlife while I write this.
“Bop Bop Baby” is still a banger, even before we called songs bangers. Apple Music now classifies Westlife under the “Adult Contemporary” genre. The only thing honest about that label is that everyone who grew up listening to Westlife is either happily married or a jaded working adult, sucked in by the soulless rat race of late-stage capitalism. I haven’t gone past Westlife’s discography after 2003’s World of Our Own. They are not contemporary, not in my book. They are the boyband of my early adolescence and will forever remain that way. (Who’s the most pogi? Nicky.)
I tried my hand at making music. In the bathroom, humming random riffs while on the toilet seat. I bought my first guitar in 2003. Had a band during the glorious years of 2005 and 2006. We were just okay but playing in an all-female band in high school sure made me seem cool. Or at least it felt like it. Remember Avril Lavigne? Of course, reader my age, you do. You know all the words to “Complicated” and “Sk8r Boi” but also think “Anything But Ordinary” is a severely underrated track. What you probably don’t know is that there is a conspiracy theory going around that Avril Lavigne already died and has since been replaced by a body double named Melissa.
Enter Olivia Rodrigo. I always attempt to disguise my liking for SOUR with her seeming spiritual affinity with Alanis Morissette (check out their interview here). Every single time I say that, I am immediately assaulted by my disingenuous thoughts—Olivia is not Alanis, but Alanis also spoke to a different generation. Olivia is a product of our post-global recession world, with a different flavor of existential dread and collective depression. Dear God, let me not be caught dead relating to “Traitor” or “Déjà vu” at my age. But that’s the thing with every generation’s patron saint of heartbreak, isn’t it? We never experienced being broken up with via an Instagram DM or made the subject of a nasty, petty TikTok.
I’ve been reflecting on this a lot. Is my inability to relate to Olivia Rodrigo a function of maturity or just the fact of ageing? More importantly, does it matter?
To try to answer this question, I’ve been listening to this new band I discovered on TikTok called Games We Play. Their music sounds like early 2000s pop punk—think New Found Glory. I am particularly hooked on their track “I Hope You’re Happy.” It’s a track 15-year-old me would absolutely love. Listening to Games We Play transports me back to the summer of 2005, playing rhythm guitar. In the year of our Lorde 2022. Meanwhile, Olivia Rodrigo only makes me feel old. And maybe that’s why Carly Rae Jepsen and Folklore/Evermore Taylor Swift are my counterpoints—let me age while I still learn about love.
Music has always played a huge role in how I related to the world. I’m sure it’s the same for most people. With streaming giving us access to a whole universe of songs, to formidable K-pop fandoms, to how frankly, TikTok is altering the way younger people today listen to and produce music—it will always be a universal language. Case in point: I had no idea what Billie Eilish’s songs were going into her recent concert, but I understood as soon as I heard the young crowd singing (screaming) along why she has captured an entire generation.
Let me now play Lil Nas X’s “Industry Baby.” Catchy song. But I know in my heart that before the day ends, I will go back to my Easy Listening playlist that features a good number of tracks your mom or dad would easily recognize.
There’s a study that says we stop listening to new music at age 33. That is next year for me. Maybe I’ll go back to this little essay. Until then, let me have my ABBA remixes and Kendrick Lamar. We listen to escape; we listen to feel. And that is exactly what I am doing.